The Wild Man of the West: A Tale of the Rocky Mountains

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER SIX.

  THE DANGERS OF THE WILDERNESS--AN UNEXPECTED CATASTROPHE, WHICHNECESSITATES A CHANGE OF PLANS--A DESCENT UPON ROBBERS PROPOSED ANDAGREED TO.

  There are few passages in Holy Writ more frequently brought toremembrance by the incidents of everyday life than this--"Ye know notwhat a day or an hour may bring forth." The uncertainty of sublunarythings is proverbial, whether in the city or in the wilderness, whetheramong the luxuriously nurtured sons and daughters of civilisation, oramong the toil-worn wanderers in the midst of savage life. To each andall there is, or may be, sunshine to-day and cloud to-morrow; gladnessto-day sadness to-morrow. There is no such thing as perpetual felicityin the world of matter. A nearer approach to it may perhaps be made inthe world of mind; but, like perpetual motion, it is not to beabsolutely attained to in this world of ours. Those who fancy that itis to be found in the wilderness are hereby warned, by one who has dweltin savage lands, that its habitation is not there.

  March Marston thought it was. On the morning after the night whoseclose we have described, he awoke refreshed, invigorated, and buoyantwith a feeling of youthful strength and health. Starting up, he met theglorious sun face to face, as it rose above the edge of a distant bluehill, and the meeting almost blinded him. There was a saffron hue overthe eastern landscape that caused it to appear like the plains ofParadise. Lakelets in the prairies glittered in the midst of verdantfoliage; ponds in the hollows lay, as yet unillumined, like blots ofink; streams and rivulets gleamed as they flowed round wooded knolls, orsparkled silvery white as they leaped over rocky obstructions. Thenoble river, on the banks of which the camp had been made, flowed with acalm sweep through the richly varied country--refreshing to look uponand pleasant to hear, as it murmured on its way to join the "Father ofwaters." The soft roar of a far-distant cataract was heard minglingwith the cries of innumerable water fowl that had risen an hour beforeto enjoy the first breathings of the young day. To March Marston's earit seemed as though all Nature, animate and inanimate, were rejoicing inthe beneficence of its Creator.

  The youth's reverie was suddenly broken by the approach of TheodoreBertram.

  "Good morrow, friend," said the latter, grasping March's hand andshaking it heartily. "You are early astir. Oh, what a scene! Whatheavenly colours! What a glorious expanse of beauty!"

  The artist's hand moved involuntarily to the pouch in which he was won'tto carry his sketch-book, but he did not draw it forth; his soul was toodeeply absorbed in admiration to permit of his doing aught but gaze insilence.

  "This repays my toils," he resumed, soliloquising rather than speakingto March. "'Twere worth a journey such as I have taken, twice repeated,to witness such a scene as this."

  "Ay, ain't it grand?" said March, delighted to find such congenialenthusiasm in the young painter.

  Bertram turned his eyes on his companion, and, in doing so, observed thewild rose at his side.

  "Ah! sweet rose," he said, stooping eagerly down to smell it.

  "Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air."

  "He was no poet who wrote that, anyhow," observed March with a look ofdisdain.

  "You are wrong, friend. He was a good poet and true."

  "Do you mean to tell me that the sweetness o' that rose is _wasted_here?"

  "Nay, I do not say that. The poet did not mean to imply that itssweetness is utterly wasted, but to assert the fact that, as far ascivilised man is concerned, it is so."

  "`Civilised man,'" echoed March, turning up his nose (a difficult feat,by the way, for his nose by nature turned down). "An' pray what's`civilised man' that he should think everything's wasted that don't goin at his own eyes, or up his own nose, or down his own throat? eh?"

  Bertram laughed slightly (he never laughed heartily). "You are a severecritic, friend."

  "I don't know, and I don't care, what sort o' cricket I am; but this Ido know, that roses are as little wasted here as in your country--mayhapnot so much. Why, I tell ye I've seen the _bars_ smell 'em."

  "Indeed."

  "Ay, an' eat 'em too!"

  "That was not taking a poetical view of them," suggested Bertram.

  "Perhaps not, but it was uncommonly practical," returned March,laughing.

  The conversation was abruptly terminated at this point by a flock ofwild ducks, which, ignorant of the presence of the two youths, sweptclose past their heads with a startling _whirr_. The artist leapedbackwards, and March, partly in the exuberant glee of his heart andpartly to relieve his own startled feelings, gave utterance to a hideousyell.

  "Hi! hallo!" roared Big Waller, starting up and replying to the yellwith compound interest. "Wot's to do? Bars or savages--which? Oh!_savages_ I see," he added, rubbing his eyes, as he observed Marchlaughing at him. "Ha! lad, d'ye know there's a sort o' critter in otherdiggins o' this here world as they calls a hi-eeno, or somethin' o' thatsort, as can _laugh_, it can; so you're not the only beast as can do it,d'ye see!"

  The camp was now thoroughly roused, and the trappers set about makingpreparations for a start; but little was said. It is generally the caseat early morning--at least among healthy men who have work to do beforebreakfast in the wilderness--that tongues are disinclined to move.After the first somewhat outrageous and rather unusual burst, no onespoke again, while they carried their goods down to the water's edge,except in a short grumpy way when an order or a remark was needful. Inabout ten minutes after the utterance of Big Waller's roar, they were intheir places in the little red canoe, paddling blithely up the river.

  Bertram's place in the canoe was the centre. He was placed there as apassenger, but, not being by any means of a lazy disposition, herelieved all the men by turns, and thus did a good share of the workduring the day.

  Towards evening the travellers came to a cataract, which effectuallybarred their further progress, and rendered a portage necessary. Justabove the cataract there was a short stretch of comparatively smoothwater, in which, however, the current was very strong. Immediatelyabove that there was a rapid of considerable length and strength, whichboiled furiously among the rocks, and seemed to be impassable to acanoe. After close inspection of it, however, Redhand and Bounce, whowere tacitly recognised as joint leaders of the party, agreed that thecanoe could easily enough be hauled up by means of a line. To make along portage, and so avoid the whole obstruction, was desirable; but theprecipitous nature of the banks at that place rendered the carrying ofthe canoe and goods a work not only of severe labour, but ofconsiderable danger.

  The mode of proceeding having been settled, all hands went to workwithout delay. The goods were carried to the top of the fall, which wasabout fifteen feet high, then the canoe was shouldered by Waller andBounce, and soon it floated in a calm eddy near the head of thecataract. Having replaced the cargo, a strong line or rope was fastenedto the bows, and Redhand and Bounce proceeded to take their places inthe canoe, in order to guide it through the rapid, while the others wereengaged in hauling on the track-line.

  "Stay," cried March Marston as Bounce was stepping in, "let me go in thecanoe, Bounce. You know well enough that I can manage it; besides,you're a heavy buffalo, and more able to track than I."

  "Nay, lad," replied Bounce, shaking his head, "you'll only run the risko' gettin' a wet skin--mayhap somethin' worse."

  "Now, that's too bad. D'ye think nobody can manage a canoe butyourself? Come, Redhand, do let me go."

  "It's not safe, boy. The rapid looks bad, and you're not much used tothe bow-paddle."

  "Tut, nonsense," exclaimed March, pushing Bounce aside and stepping intothe canoe. "Now hold on."

  Before the men on the bank of the river were well aware of what thereckless youth was about, he shoved the bow of the canoe off. Theinstant it passed the still water of the eddy and caught the powerfulstream, the light bark darted like an arrow from the bank, and Redhandwas obliged to use his paddle with the utmost dexterity, while the menon shore had to haul on th
e line with all their might, to prevent itbeing swept over the brink of the fall. In a second, however, thedanger was past, and, putting their strength to the track-line, theydragged the canoe slowly but steadily upstream, while Redhand and Marchguided it past rocks and dangerous eddies. Seeing that the youth usedhis paddle dexterously, Bounce, after a little thought, resolved to lethim encounter the more dangerous rapid above. Redhand silently came tothe same conclusion, though he felt uneasy and blamed himself forallowing the ardour of the boy to get the better of him.

  "March is a bold fellow," observed Bertram, who walked immediatelybehind Bounce, hauling on the line like the rest.

  "Bold he is, sir," replied Bounce; "an' if ye'd seed him, as I did notmany weeks agone, a-ridin' on the back of a buffalo bull, ye'd mayhapsay he was more nor that."

  "Hah! he is mad!" cried Gibault, who, although the last in the line oftracksmen, was sharp-eared, and overheard the conversation.

  "Don't talk, Gibault," interposed Big Waller, "you need all the wind inyour little carcass, I guess, to enable ye to steam ahead."

  "Oui, mon dear ami, you is right--I do ver' much require all minesteam--mine spirits--for to push such a heavy, useless hulk as youbefore me."

  "Here's a steep bit, lads; mind your eye, Hawkswing," said Bounce, asthe Indian who led the party began to ascend a steep part of the bank,where the footing was not secure, owing to the loose gravelly nature ofthe soil.

  As they advanced, the path along the bank became narrower, and the cliffitself so precipitous that it seemed as if a jerk on the line would dragthe men off and send them rolling down into the flood below, in themidst of which the canoe was buffeting its way through the hissing foam.

  Bertram, who was unused to such a position of comparative danger, andwhose head was not capable of standing the sight of a precipicedescending from his very feet into a roaring stream, began to feelgiddy, and would have given the world to return; but he felt ashamed toconfess his weakness, and endeavoured, by gazing earnestly into the bankat his side, to steady himself, hoping that the nature of the trackwould improve as they advanced. Instead of this being the case, itbecame worse at every step, and the trackers were at length obliged toproceed cautiously along a ledge of rock that barely afforded themfoothold. Bertram now felt an almost irresistible desire to turn hishead to the left and glance at the river below; yet he knew that if heshould do so, he would become utterly unable to advance another yard.While engaged in this struggle it suddenly occurred to him that it wasimpossible now to turn, no matter how nervous he should become, as thepath was too narrow to permit one of the party to pass another! Hebecame deadly pale, and his heart sank at the thought. Little did thehardy trappers think, as they plodded silently along, that such anagonising conflict was going on in the breast of one of their number! Aslight groan escaped him in spite of his utmost efforts to restrainhimself. Bounce looked back in surprise.

  "Hey! wot's to do, sir?"

  "No matter; lead on--I will follow," said Bertram sternly between hisclenched teeth.

  "Hallo! up there," shouted Redhand, who was at that moment, along withMarch, exerting his utmost strength in order to keep the canoe off arock over which the water was bursting in volumes of thick foam; "haulaway! haul away! we're just about up."

  The shout attracted Bertram's attention; he turned his eyesinvoluntarily towards the river. Instantly his brain swam round; hestaggered, and would have fallen over the bank, had not Big Waller, whowas close behind, observed his situation and caught him by the collar.In doing so he was compelled to let go his hold of the line. Theadditional strain thus suddenly cast upon Gibault wrenched the line fromhis grasp with a degree of violence that wellnigh hurled him into theriver. Bounce and Hawkswing held on for one moment, but the canoe,having been eased off a little, caught a sweep of the rapid, and wentout with a dart that the united strength of the whole party could nothave checked. The two men had to let go to save themselves, and in ashorter time than it takes to relate, the canoe went down the rivertowards the fall, dancing like a cork on the heaving spray, while theold man and the youth stood up in the bow and stern wielding theirpaddles, now on one side, now on the other, with ceaseless rapidity intheir efforts to avoid being dashed to pieces on the rocks.

  The sight of this catastrophe, superadded to his already agonisedfeelings, caused the unhappy artist to swoon. Gibault, on seeing theline let go, turned instantly, and sprang like a deer along the trackthey had been following; intending to render what assistance he could tohis comrades at the foot of the rapid. The others could not follow,because of Big Waller and the artist, who obstructed the path. Seeingthis, the powerful Yankee seized Bertram round the waist, and, heavinghim on his shoulder as one would swing a child, followed in Gibault'sfootsteps as fast as he could run.

  The distance to the spot whence they had commenced to track the canoewas not great, but before they reached it the frail craft had beenshattered against a rock, and was now hurrying, along with the scatteredcargo and the two men, towards the fall, to pass over which involvedcertain destruction.

  There is nothing more uncertain, however, than the action of thewhirling eddies of a great rapid. True, the general flow of its body ofwater is almost always the same, but its superficial billows are morevariable--now tossing a drifting log to the right, anon to the left, andcasting it ashore, or dragging it with fearful violence into the ragingcurrent. Although there was only the canoe's length between the oldtrapper and the youth when they were left struggling in the water, theywere swept in totally different directions. Redhand was hurledviolently into the eddy where the canoe had lain before the ascent wascommenced, and was dragged safe to land by his comrades. March Marston,on the other hand, was swept out near to the main current, and would, ina few seconds more, have been carried over the fall, had he not, withwonderful presence of mind and an almost superhuman exertion of muscle,dashed into an eddy which was formed by a rock about fifty yards fromthe top of the fall. The rock was completely covered with the burstingspray, so that it formed no resting-place, and it, with the partial eddythat tailed away from it, was about twenty yards from the shore, wherethe trappers stood gazing in horror at their companion as he struggledbravely to maintain his position by swimming; but to cross those twentyyards of gushing water, so as to afford him aid, seemed beyond the powerof man.

  Men bred in the wilderness are not usually slow to act in cases ofdanger where action is possible. Each man was revolving in fervid hasteevery plan that seemed likely to afford succour. Redhand's quick eyeobserved that the rocks at the edge of the fall, on the side of theriver on which they stood, projected out so far that a straight linedrawn from the eddy to the fall would pass within a yard of them, andthat, consequently, if March would push straight across the stream andmake vigorously for the bank, he might hit the point of rocks referredto before being carried over.

  "Down, some of you," he cried, "to the point, an' be ready to catch him;I'll shout to him what to do."

  Big Waller and Gibault darted away. Poor Bertram, having recovered,remained gazing in speechless agony at March, who, having made severalfruitless efforts to seize hold of the sunken rock, was evidentlygrowing weaker. Bounce also remained to gaze, as if he had lost all hiswonted self-command.

  "Ho! March!" shouted Redhand. "Dash into the stream--straight for me--with all yer might; don't be afraid, lad! do it boldly!" But Marchheard not. The rush of water about him deadened all other sounds.

  In an instant Bounce started at full speed up the river, plunged intoit, and, descending with fearful rapidity, swung round into the eddybehind the stone almost before his companions could divine what he meantto do.

  Even in that moment of terrible suspense March Marston looked with anexpression of surprise at his friend as he swam up beside him. Bouncedid not waste time or words; he merely raised one hand for a second,and, pointing to the bank of the river, cried, "Push for it--'tis youronly chance!"

  March Marston made no reply, but at once obeyed;
yet so exhausted washe, that, in the effort, he lost strength and sank. Bounce was preparedfor this. He seized him by the hair and struck out with the energy ofdespair. A moment more and he was within a foot of the brink of thefall--but, also, within a foot of the point of rock on which Big Wallerwas lying at full length, part of his body overhanging the cataract, hisarms extended, and Gibault and Hawkswing holding him firmly by the legs.Bounce caught his comrade's hand, and swung close in to the bank, whilewith the other hand he continued to grasp March by the hair of the head.The force of the current was so great, however, that not one of theparty dared move, and it seemed for a moment as if all of them would belost, when Bertram rushed forward, and, seizing Bounce by the arm,dragged him still nearer the bank, and relieved the strain upon theothers. Just then, Redhand came to the rescue, and in another momentthe two men were safe upon the land.

  Poor Bertram fell upon his knees, and while he thanked God for thedeliverance of his companions, sobbed liked a little child.

  For some time the trappers spoke little. Accustomed though they were todanger, they were solemnised by the recent narrow escape from suddendeath. Perhaps, too, their minds were more deeply affected than usualwith a sense of their dependence upon the living God, by the example andthe heartfelt, unrestrained thanksgiving of Bertram. But men whoselives are spent in the midst of alarms are not long seriously affected,even by the most solemn events. The trappers quickly recurred to theirpresent circumstances, which were, in truth, of a nature calculated tofill them with anxiety, and cause them to bend the powers of their quickwits and iron energies to the simple consideration of how they were tosubsist and how proceed on their journey.

  "First of all," said Redhand quickly, "we must try what we can recoverof our odds and ends."

  "Right," cried Bounce, who was none the worse for his late gallantexertions; "the current won't stop for no man; an' the bales ain'tlikely to stem it o' their own accord till we're ready to look for 'em."

  Saying this, he set off down the river at a run, followed by all theothers, including March, who, after wringing the water from hisgarments, and resting a few minutes, felt as well and strong as ever.But, alas! their losses were grievous and irreparable. Their littlebundles of spare clothing and trinkets for trading with, orconciliating, the Indians, were indeed saved, but their guns and alltheir ammunition were gone. All that remained to them of the latterwere the few charges of powder in the horns suspended round their necks,and a few slugs and bullets in their pouches. The only firearms leftwere Bertram's cavalry pistols.

  As for the canoe, it was smashed so thoroughly, that only a very fewshreds of bark were cast up on the shore; but entangled with theseshreds they were happy to find several of their steel traps--a mostfortunate circumstance, as it held out hopes that they might still beenabled to prosecute to some extent the main object of their expedition.

  As each man had been in the habit of carrying his axe and knife in hisbelt, those indispensable implements of the backwoodsman were saved; butthe loss of guns and ammunition was a very severe misfortune, and onewhich, for at least half an hour after every attempt to recover them hadfailed, cast a damp over the spirits of the whole party. But these menhad neither time nor inclination to hang down their heads and sigh. BigWaller, being a careless individual by nature, was the first to regainsomewhat of his wonted tone and manner. Sitting on a grassy knoll, onwhich all the party had been resting for some time after their fruitlessexertions, in moody silence, Waller looked up suddenly and said, "Who'safraid?"

  As no one happened at that moment to be exhibiting symptoms of terror,and there was no apparent cause for fear, the question seemedirrelevant. We therefore conclude that the bold Yankee meant by it toimply that _he_, at least, was not afraid of _circumstances_, no matterhow disastrous or heartrending they might be. Having said this, helooked at the faces of his companions one by one. The last face helooked at was that of Gibault Noir, and it wore such a lugubrious aspectof hopeless melancholy that Big Waller burst into an uncontrollable fitof laughter, and Bounce, without knowing why, joined him.

  "Well, it's of no use looking blue about it," said March Marston, makingan effort to cheer up; "the question to be settled now is, What's to bedone?"

  "Ay, _that_ is the question," observed Bertram gravely.

  "Wall now, that _bein'_ the kee-westion," said Waller, "whose a-goin' toanswer it? There's a chance now, lads; but don't all speak at once."

  "Right; that's wot it is," observed Bounce, nodding; "that's thefeelosophy on it. When a feller's turned upside down, wot's he a-goin'to do nixt? You can't put no other construction on it in this herewurld."

  Redhand, who had been ruminating abstractedly for some minutes, nowlooked round on his comrades and said--

  "Here's a plan for you, lads. That outrageous villain the Big Snakelives, for the most part, in a pretty little spot just three days' marchfrom this place. He stole, as ye all know, the horses belongin' to MrBertram's party. Well, I propose that we shud go an' call on him, an'make him stand an' re-deliver. What say you?"

  "Agreed," cried Waller, tossing his cap into the air. "Hurrah!" shoutedMarch Marston. In one way or another, each gave his consent to the planof making a descent upon the robbers and causing them to makerestitution.

  The plans of backwoodsmen, once formed, are always quickly put inexecution. They had no arrangements to make, no portmanteaus to pack,no difficulties in the way to overcome. Each man strapped a portion ofthe remaining property on his broad shoulders, and, pushing into theforest with vigorous strides, they were soon far from the spot wheretheir late disaster had occurred, and gradually drew near to the wildglens and gorges of the Rocky Mountains.